One of the best things about working at an art school is finding stuff like this on the bulletin boards:

You ever notice how grown people that are perfectly capable of feeding themselves lose their minds over free food at work? Fuck bombs, the best way for The Terrorists to strike at the heart of American capitalists would be like this:

1. Plant a guy in the company in an admin position — get him in as a temp. He won’t need to be there long.
2. Deliver any number of cyanide-laced pizzas and/or doughnuts to every office building in America. Everyone in every office everywhere loses their mind over free pizza, including security guards. If The Terrorists are feeling fancy, they could make the poison a two-stage compound, lacing the cream cheese with one half and various bagels with the other.
3. Have the temp send out a company-wide e-mail that announces free food.
4. Cackle madly while the bodies drop.

This is too fascinating and revolting (which, for me, is a synonym for fascinating) to pass up. It’s probably safe for work and a good lesson in why you shouldn’t go around stealing food out of the work fridge.From the Vaginal Food & Cuisine section at MyVag.net — Don’t Try This At Home. Here’s a telling excerpt:

As I love my girlfriend so much that it hurts, and I want to have her in everything I do, I decided to produce yoghurt with my girlfriend’s lactobacillus. I bought a yoghurt machine, which is just an electric contraption that keeps small cups constantly at body temperature. I put plain milk in each cup, and then with the full and loving help of my girlfriend I swabbed a bit of her vaginal juices and put a small bit in each cup. I then mixed the contents in each cup, plugged the machine and waited overnight.

The results were fabulous! … I have taken a few cups to work, which I store in the office fridge. A female co-worker pinched one from me, ate it, and liked it so much that she is asking me where I got it, but I do not dare tell her where it came from!

One thing is clear. This is gateway behavior for full-throttle sexual cannibalism. You totally know the deal: this guy is all chunky cardigans and cups of Earl Grey tea and little weird food projects like this now. But once he works out that he can have this woman he loves so much literally coursing through his bloodstream those beady little eyes are going to light up like candles only an electric chair can snuff out.

I see you in the bathroom in my office every afternoon at about four o’clock. I think we’re on the same cycle that way. I think you’re a VIP in your company judging from the deferential reverence in younger men’s voices as they talk to you at the sinks and urinals. You respond to in clipped, quick sentences. It’s obvious that your words are almost as precious as your time, and given just as sparingly. You’ve got decisions to make, places to be, and barely enough time to take lunch.

This afternoon you strode purposefully into the bathroom, robotically munching Cheez-Its from a little bag. Without wasting a single motion, you unzipped, pulled EVERYTHING out and started pissing away a good two feet from the toilet — using both free hands to keep eating those Cheez-Its.

If you’re that busy, you’re in heart attack territory, man. And then where will you be? Dead on the floor, lying in a puddle with your piece out and Cheez-its on your lips. That’s no way for a man of industry to go.

Going to the bathroom is important, and so is snacking. Nobody is so important that they have to do both simultaneously. That’s not efficient, it’s just nasty.

Take a little time to taste the Cheez-its. Get outside, get a little air, some sunshine. You’re building a world and that’s great, but take some time to enjoy the world you’re in. It’s a hell of a mess, but there’s some beautiful stuff if you stop and look.

Take care, man. Take care.

–Jeff